Skinny Love
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Klaus/Caroline.. When two people love each other but are too shy to admit but they still show it. Come on skinny love.


…

The first time she comes to his home, she doesn't speak.

He asks what she's doing there but she doesn't answer. She just looks at the vaulted ceilings, at the hardwood floors, at the ornate fixtures on the walls. She looks anywhere but him and he watches her. He doesn't ask her again.

He leads her into the drawing room where there is a fire roaring in the massive stone fireplace. He had been sitting on the brown leather couch with his sketchpad – drawing her as he always does nowadays – and he offers her a drink. She shakes her head, still not saying anything and he sits down on the couch, watching her.

She hesitates and then slowly, she moves towards one of the brown leather armchairs, lowering herself down to sit on the very edge of the cushion. She rests her arms on her knees and fidgets with her fingers. She doesn't take off her coat or scarf and she is wearing this red floppy beanie hat on her head and though neither can get cold the way they used to, he likes to imagine that her cheeks are rosy from the brisk wind outside.

He flips to a new page and starts to draw her.

She stays for an hour.

Neither speak in that time.

When she leaves, he is confused and doesn't expect to see her again but he can't help but smile. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air.

…

She comes two more times within the week.

The second time is much like the first. Not speaking, not moving, just sitting there, rigid and as if she is about to bolt at any second. She never does though. She just sits there, either watching the fire or looking out the window, and he sketches her.

The third time, she finally takes off her coat but leaves her scarf and hat on. Progress.

He offers her something to drink.

She looks at him as if he has just offered to drag a dead body into the room.

She nods slowly and he gets up, leaving to go into the kitchen and returning a minute later with a glass of fresh raspberry lemonade. When he hands it to her, she looks at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugs, returning to the couch.

"Rebekah likes it," is all he says, picking up his piece of charcoal and sketchbook.

He watches her and there is a hint of a smile pulling at her lips as she sips at it.

He smiles to himself, too.

…

The fourth time she comes over, she seems more relaxed. This time, the coat, hat and scarf all come off and he gets her another glass of raspberry lemonade.

She sinks into the chair and watches the fire and she stays for nearly three hours.

They still don't talk and it seems to surprise them both that the silence between them is comfortable.

…

On the sixth time, he offers to give her a tour and she agrees, clutching her glass between both hands and following him from room to room in the mansion he has built for himself and his family.

She gasps when he pushes two double doors at the end of the hallway, opening up into a library, the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all filled with books.

"Oh my god," she whispers, her mouth hanging open and he watches her as she steps inside, slowly turning around, taking it all in.

"Do you like to read?" He asks.

Her eyes cut to him. "Does that surprise you?" She asks. "Because I'm blonde, I shouldn't like to read? Or because-"

"I just wanted you to tell me something about yourself," he interrupts.

That makes her mouth snap shut. She looks at him for a moment, her shoulders relaxing and then she turns again. "This is so beautiful," she says quietly. "What's your favorite?" She asks him, surprising him.

"I honestly couldn't choose. Could you?"

He takes the now empty glass from her hands and watches as she steps further into the library. She runs her fingers lightly over the delicate spines of the books, following the rows of cases, reading the titles and taking her time. He follows her from a distance, watching her, fascinated by her. He wants to remember the way she looks right now for later. Maybe one day, he'll show her the sketches he has of her.

A gold curl falls from behind her ear and brushes along the corner of her eye. She turns her head with surprise when he reaches it out and returns it to behind her ear. Neither say anything about it though.

"This one," she says instead and pulls a slim, blue leather covered book from the shelf. _Black Beauty_. "My dad used to read it to me before bed when I was a little girl," she flips carefully through the thin pages. "Maybe it's why I love horses so much."

"It's yours," he takes a step closer to her.

Her eyes widen at his words and she immediately shakes her head and closes the book. "I can't…" she returns it to the shelf.

"I want you to have it," his voice is soft, gentle, a tone reserved only for her.

"I have to go."

He can easily stop her. He's so much faster than her and she wouldn't stand a chance but in a whoosh, she is gone and he lets her leave.

She'll be back.

…

He can't wait.

At her house, through the bedroom window, he sees her sitting at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Behind her, she sees him push the window open and he easily climbs inside. Looking at her, he sees that she doesn't look at all surprised to see him. Instead, she sighs softly and turns on the stool to look at him.

She doesn't say anything. She waits.

He doesn't say anything. He sits on the edge of her bed, facing her, and he holds out the blue leather covered book. He holds it and she doesn't take it – not at first.

"Read it to me," he then requests and she gives him a look – a mixture of confusion and curiosity – and he smiles a little. "Please," he adds and both are surprised. He isn't one to say that word – ever.

She hesitates for just another moment and then slowly, she reaches out and takes the book from him, their fingers touching. He expects her to jerk her hand away but she doesn't and their eyes lock together. She stands up from the vanity and turns, sitting down next to him on the bed. Their thighs and elbows and arms touch and he leans in perhaps a bit too closely as she opens it up to the first page. He watches her look at the words – probably remembering her father; remembering herself – and he waits.

When she begins to read the first sentence and then the second and the third, he closes his eyes and lets her voice wash over him.

…

He comes to her bedroom the next night and the night after that and she reads him all of _Black Beauty_ until it's finished.

Two days later, she comes back to his house and this time, she smiles shyly at him when he smiles at her in greeting. She then strides past him, for once acting completely comfortable, and he follows her into the drawing room, now grinning as she takes off her coat, scarf and hat. She spins around to look at him, hands on her hips, an eyebrow slightly raised, and he smirks a little, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's your turn," she informs him.

"My turn for what, love?" He asks and he takes a step closer to her.

She doesn't step back. She stands her ground and looks him in the eye, tilting her chin up when he comes to stand directly in front of her. "You want to get to know me. It's only fair that I get to know you, too."

Now, she has truly surprised him. "You want to get to know me?" He asks.

She sighs, almost impatiently. "Why do you think I keep showing up here? Now, I read you my favorite book. You read me yours."

The curl has fallen from behind her ear and this time, she doesn't seem to mind when he tucks it back again. "I have more than one. It might take us a while."

She's quiet and looks up at him and then smiles faintly. She shrugs. "I've got time."

…

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><p><em>Thank you so much for reading and I hope you review!<em>


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